


Unexpected

by SoaringJe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Bellamione Cult's Valentine's Event 2020, Cissamione for probably more than half the story honestly, Discord: Bellamione Cult, Endgame Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, F/F, No adultery, Non-Endgame Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy, POV Bellatrix Black Lestrange, POV Third Person, endgame Bellamione, may end up with a Cissamione spinoff?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoaringJe/pseuds/SoaringJe
Summary: Bellatrix paused before entering the atrium proper. She could see the front door and Cissa easily from her vantage point; however, with it being dusk, one would have to look closely to see her.But who would pay attention to the shadows as Narcissa opened the door to light....The heart, in the metaphysical sense, was such a troublesome thing. And Narcissa was entrusting hers to agirl.It never occurred to Bellatrix that her own heart may have needed those defenses.(or: Bellatrix lets Hermione close to her heart for her sister's sake. No one expected it to get stolen.)
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagicNonCreator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicNonCreator/gifts).



“You’re distracted.”

“No I’m not,” she denied immediately. She was a filthy liar.

It had been a dry observation, but after that response she straightened in her chair, glancing out the window as a hint of bemusement entered her tone, “What could possibly be happening at 3?” The world _looked_ normal, but that had been far too poor a lie. What was unsettling her?

Across the city, a brunette’s lips pursed as she considered how to answer. She had told her that their call had to end by 3, and at the time it wasn’t questioned. Damn it. 

The court had mandated she take days off after her latest outburst—fucking paparazzis. This was officially a phone call between friends, never mind that they had discussed the business as if in a meeting—, and the media had limited her options to within the confines of her family’s property—for a given definition of ‘limited.’ That all led her to one conclusion: she didn’t have much material to spin a believable lie. 

Fuck it. “Cissy has a date,” she muttered.

There was a beat of silence. “And she asked _you_ to help?” It was a testament to her restraint that she only sounded incredulous; most people would have laughed or offered to drive someone to a psychiatric facility.

It was understandably absurd given her dating history which consisted of failed first dates set up for her by her family, and a string of one night stands during college—but she was Bellatrix Black and she couldn’t not defend her sister.

“She has a date with a girl a decade younger,” she said curtly.

Her friend could follow the logic easily enough. “And you’ve experimented.”

Bellatrix nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see it. Some of her exploits in college were well-documented by the tabloids. “I’ve experimented, and I don’t care; I don’t think Cissy wants to deal with all the questions Andy would have.” Her friend doesn’t ask and she doesn’t bother to say whether Andromeda had experimented: perhaps just as well-documented was her relationship with her high school sweetheart. Unless their relationship was not as exclusive as she thought, Bellatrix would bet her favorite set of throwing knives that Andy had never experimented.

Her friend hummed. The youngest would rather _not_ receive relationship advice from the happily-married sister due to questions that would undoubtedly be kinder than the ones that would be posted on page six. The Black sisters were certainly interesting. “And the girl?” she asked. She had learned long ago to just accept some things; it made life more bearable.

“Cissy met her at one of those non-profit thingies,” Bellatrix waved her hand irreverently. The youngest Black sister was quite the socialite. None of the sisters really _needed_ to work, but with one working as a CEO and the other a practicing doctor, dear Narcissa came under fire for not ‘working.’ Fools. The blonde Black was brilliant; she just chose to use that brilliance to raise funds and see those funds used efficiently, not to mention her political activism. “She works there.” 

It was perhaps the closest Narcissa could get to “dipping into company ink.” Added onto the how young and female the girl was...“Daring,” was all she commented. “Is she hiring security?” 

Bellatrix knew her friend never failed to have security whenever she met with her daughter: there were too many bigoted idiots in their city. And Dominique would never gamble with her daughter’s safety.

“She opted not to,” Bellatrix grumbled.

Dominique doesn’t ask if the girl had any training—she wouldn’t, not any worth noting. “But you’ve funded a dinner for a couple at the place that just happens to be where Cissa is taking her date, and one or both of them just happen to be trained personal security bodyguards.”

Bellatrix scoffed. “Three of them; they’re friends.”

“Right, of course.” The wry amusement in her tone could be cut with a knife. “And you don’t care whom Narcissa’s dating, but you _do_ care about your sister, her safety, and her happine—”

Dominique lifted a hand to cut the dial tone beeping in her ear. A smirk played at rouge-painted lips.

Bellatrix frowned, tossing her phone to a couch and vowing to pay Dominique back the next time the redhead drops everything to help her daughter. 

Bellatrix and Dominique, they were the devils of the company yet never missed a chance to undermine the other’s image. 

It was the closest thing either of them had to a friendship. Siblings don’t count.

“Bella, are you done?” Narcissa asked as she stood in the doorway.

Bellatrix stood, brushing down her pants. “Just finished.” She followed her sister to her room.

“I haven’t decided between a skirt or slacks,” Cissa told her as she laid out a few choices on the bed. Cissa tended towards skirts. 

“Well I suppose it depends on ease of access—” Bellatrix was cut short. It was rather difficult to talk when a pillow lands on your face. She didn’t bother catching the pillow as it fell, choosing instead to just laugh.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. She did end up choosing slacks, and Bellatrix held up her hands in surrender, though the smirk playing at her lips told volumes. Narcissa could only shake her head fondly. Her sister was such a juvenile ass at times. In her periphery, Narcissa could see the triumphant grin that split her face. She was a juvenile ass _most_ times.

When Narcissa turned back to her, Bellatrix looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Anyone who knew her knew better.

It was all pretty routine after that: Cissa could dress herself— _Cissy, no, you’re not wearing a blouse from the 1880s—for the most part. _Wha—did_ Sirius _buy that? Burn it.__ It was almost amusing how rattled Cissy was, but it had gotten to the point where it was just exasperating. 

Bellatix eventually gave up trying to track her sister as she does her best to wear a hole in the flooring. Instead she opted to slide down from her perch on the armrest to sprawl across the chair sideways, tilting her head up to gaze at the ceiling. Out the corner of her eye, she could still see Cissa frown at her. Well, _her_ version of frowning anyway, with lips thin and eyes the slightest bit tense. Bellatrix sighed. As if she needed more confirmation that this was important to her.

“She’s just a girl, Cissa,” Bellatrix dismissed tiredly, eyelids drooping. 

“She’s not though.” 

Bellatrix paused, eyes fluttering back open before blinking twice. Her head turned towards her sister.

“She’s not,” Cissa repeated, and she sounded so resolute, so sure. 

One of Bellatrix’s brows rose.

“She actually reminds me of you sometimes.” 

She blinked. Bellatrix’s eyes were definitely wide now, her voice shooting up in pitch, “Me?”

“When Rita approached us—”

“She what? When? I told you to call me when that bi—”

“You and Dominique were visiting…” Narcissa trailed off.

Bellatrix slumped. “Oh.” She understood. 

The universe had it in for them: they both had to deal with reporters on the same day. 

_Well,_ Bellatrix found herself considering, _however the girl dealt with it, at least she didn’t have to appear before court._

“So she scared Rita off?” Bellatrix asked lazily, eyelids drooping.

“Literally.” 

Bellatrix nearly sighed. Why couldn’t this girl have been _boring_. “What?” she asked.

“The first time, Hermione confronted Rita, but it was Rita,” Bellatrix nodded, “she just looked as if she had gotten bored.” Sounds typical enough: an upstart getting into Rita’s face for her rude and inaccurate reporting, and Rita retreating because she had already gotten what she came for. “The next time though, Rita looked scared.” Narcissa actually looked serious. “She didn’t even approach us.” Her sister sounded appreciative of whatever this Hermione had done.

Bellatrix found herself reminiscing on the last time _she_ had dealt with a reporter.

“Miss Black, I just had a question—” Bellatrix had reacted instinctively, and both the microphone and camera were in pieces on the floor by her next breath. Every reporter and journalist in this city knew that when these two women were using this car with just the two of them and Bellatrix was driving—you don’t fucking approach them. Bellatrix looked up, ready to tear into the two soon-to-be-dead.

 _”Bellatrix.”_ Dominique had grasped her arm just in case, but Bellatrix saw what she had seen: they were just kids. The cameraman looked like a boy who had barely graduated high school, for fuck’s sake. 

Bellatrix was still shaking with rage, so Dominique had stepped forward, explaining to the children how their network or whomever had set them up to be chew toys. She was vaguely aware of how they had paled, the apologies they eschewed. 

Dominique made sure she got home. Their network charged Bellatrix for destruction of property, and tried to make a case—with convenient footage of the altercation—that Bellatrix was unstable as Dominique had wrapped a hand around her arm to prevent her from further violence. They weren’t _wrong,_ but she still hated being confined to the house. She doesn’t acknowledge that she was more infuriated with how the two kids were used.

Bellatrix was certain now that Narcissa had meant the girl’s resemblance to Bellatrix as a compliment: that the girl was brave and cunning. Bellatrix found herself wondering if this Hermione would have granted mercy if she was in a similar situation as Bellatrix had been.

Bellatrix knew a younger her wouldn’t have. Was Hermione as ruthless and impulsive as she? The thought set Bellatrix was on edge, though she doubted Narcissa noticed. The anecdote was evidently just a brief respite as Narcissa resumed her pacing.

No. Just, stop. “Cissa.” Narcissa stopped. Bellatrix’s eyes bored into her, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “She said yes.” Narcissa blinked. “She knows you, and she said yes.” Even still and sprawled across a chair, Bellatrix’s passion shone in her voice and eyes. 

How could Narcissa not believe her? 

Bellatrix’s head lulled, eyes shutting. “So what do you have to be worried about,” Bellatrix not-asks. 

Narcissa breathes, lips twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Thank you, Bella.”

Bellatrix’s eyes, even closed, twitched at the sincerity in her voice. This was all too sappy. Her voice dropped into a bored drawl, “Give her flowers and chocolate, talk about more than just you, and chew with your mouth closed.” She lifted her head, eyes opening as she plastered on a smile, her voice saccharine. “You’ll be her best date ever!” simpered one Bellatrix Black.

Narcissa deadpanned at her sister’s uniquely unhelpful advice. “You’re terrible.” 

Bellatrix pouted mockingly, unbothered by that characterization. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she fought down a smile. “Now is that any way to talk to your dearest sister,” Bellatrix began, “who was so kind as to let your date through the gate—”

“You what?” Bellatrix’s face split into a grin. That was the most shrill Bellatrix had heard Narcissa in years. 

Narcissa had darted to the window, looking out from between the curtains. Bellatrix heard Narcissa’s gasp and beneath that the increasingly loud sound of a car’s engine. Narcissa hurried out of the room. 

Bellatrix clambered leisurely to her feet, snagging her discarded jacket off the back of the chair and strolling in Narcissa’s wake. She rounded the corner just in time to see Narcissa bump into a side table. Bellatrix had to pause in shrugging on her jacket just to laugh—cackle, really. Narcissa did not seem the prim and proper princess just then, and it amused Bellatrix endlessly. 

The doorbell rang just after Bellatrix’s laughs petered out. Bellatrix paused before entering the atrium proper. She could see the front door and Cissa easily from her vantage point; however, with it being dusk, one would have to look closely to see her.

But who would pay attention to the shadows as Narcissa opened the door to light.

Bellatrix blinked, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the change in brightness. She idly considered that many people would have found it fitting that she lurked in the dark like some terrible cryptid. Narcissa had even called her terrible earlier. Not that it bothered her. She would readily agree she wasn’t the best human in the world, but how could that bother her when she was loved? Her sister’s voice washed over her, echoing back to grace her ears even within the little alcove she was tucked away in. “Hermione.” 

And now one of her precious people was opening her heart to another.

The girl was of average height, Bellatrix saw first, silhouetted as she was by the setting sun behind her. She stepped into the atrium at Cissa’s behest, her sensible shoes tapping an unfamiliar cadance on the marble tiles used to the click of heels or the thud of boots. Her brown eyes were wide, set in an unblemished face framed by a few chestnut curls that had escaped her updo. 

For a moment, Bellatrix saw the manor as the girl must have: dark wooden double doors opening to marble flooring, a chandelier hanging above framed by a pair of curving staircases, an entry way directly ahead, with smaller ones between the middle hall and each staircase. With the waning twilight and the doors shut behind her, the scene was lit only by the warm lights attached to wooden walls. There was no need to waste electricity. Not to mention that adding in the chandelier and more luminescent lights often made it uncomfortably bright for the eldest sister. With the shadows, she could see but not be easily seen. She preferred it.

“You’re beautiful,” said the girl. Or perhaps her eyes were wide not for the splendor of the mansion, but for her sister, whose blonde hair fell like a waterfall, contrasting her dark blue top which brought out the blue in her eyes. Cissa had done her makeup minimally, as was her preferred style, enhancing but not distracting from her natural beauty. 

“As are you,” Cissy returned warmly. They were so sweet; Bellatrix was getting nauseous. The girl’s white dress shirt exposed her collarbone, the collar flaring tastefully while her sleeves were rolled up before the elbow. The shirt was tucked into grey pants: not tailored, but the cut was flattering enough, she supposed.

“I, uh, brought flowers.” Bellatrix hoped the girl’s verbal awkwardness was due to nerves and not Cissa’s standards lowering. (So Bellatrix failed to account for it being customary for the _visiting_ party to bring flowers and/or chocolates; no one ever accused her of having _good_ advice.)

“Thank you, dear.” Cissa’s hand brushed tenderly along the girl’s as she took the flowers, a flush rising on the girl’s cheeks. “Let me just put these in a vase.”

"So _you're_ Hermione," Bellatrix said suddenly. Had someone been there to spectate, they may have likened Bellatrix’s movements to a prowl as she slinked out of the shadows. Her appearance was startling.

Cissa was used to how swiftly and silently Bellatrix could move. The girl was not. 

She jumped, quickly turning her head to meet coal black eyes.

Not that it was all that difficult to sneak up on the pair as they were off in their own little world, Bellatrix considered. _Pop,_ she thought gleefully.

“Hermione, this is my sister Bellatrix,” Cissa calmly introduced, patting Bella’s shoulder. “Now if you will excuse me for a moment.”

Two pairs of eyes watched her walk away. A part of Bellatrix missed the days she could unsettle and worry her sister. (Her shoulder was warm; most of Bellatrix didn’t.) 

Black eyes turned to peer at the girl. 

Brown eyes met her gaze. She did not back down.

"Hm." A slim, pale digit tapped her lips. "Take care of my sister will you?" It was not a request, but it was condescending.

The girl bristled. "She is a woman and does not need to be _taken care of_ ," Hermione shot back.

Bellatrix's brow arched, before a grin stretched across her face. "Oh? How am I to trust my youngest sister to you?"

The girl’s reply cut across the atrium quickly, barely waiting enough to be polite. "Perhaps trust that she has chosen to trust me.” The grin fell off Bella’s lips, face smoothing; and only then did Hermione really see the resemblance between the sisters. Hermione did not falter, meeting fathomless eyes. “Unless you don't trust your 'youngest sister.'" 

Those dark, dark eyes gleamed at the challenge. And then a hand was tugging her head down as lips pecked her cheek.

"Behave, Bellatrix," was said softly into her ear.

Bellatrix pouted as Narcissa took Hermione's arm. Ever the gentlelady. Neither of them had heard Narcissa return. “It would not do to miss our reservation,” the blonde explained, having already shrugged on her coat.

They departed shortly after, Bellatrix following them to the doorway so she could close it behind them. The girl’s car was serviceable, Bellatrix had to admit.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Bellatrix called after them.

She smirked. Hermione’s stride had stuttered at that last jibe; Cissy just had to be the responsible one and tug her date away.

 _Chivalrous,_ Bellatrix found herself thinking as the girl opened the door for Narcissa before rounding the car and slipping in herself. 

Bellatrix watched the taillights of the car disappear. 

She was...disappointed. _Her?_ After a conversation with a _girl_? But she was.

And then she huffed. She'd spent too long cooped up; it was getting to her.

* * *

Her phone rang. She picked up without looking and didn’t even get a word in before there was yelling, “That idiotic moron! What was he thinking—no, he _wasn’t_ thinking: taking her with him _there?_ Where the hell was his pet detective—I—” her words cut out into a frustrated growl.

“Hello, Dominique,” Bellatrix said. They had both watched the evening news; Bellatrix knew what Dominique was yelling about, so she eschewed useless questions for a greeting. It sounded fairly normal. 

“What’s wrong?” But not to Dominique. 

Bellatrix nearly sighed. She wasn’t sure she appreciated their perceptiveness. She didn’t really want to talk about it. Ironically, she’s sure that every person who _could_ tell something was wrong, wouldn’t let up until she talked to them about it. Annoying.

“They talked about Cissy,” she said. Naïvely, Bellatrix hadn’t expected it. Stupid. The news outlet had gotten pictures of them entering the restaurant, had obtained some soundbites from patrons leaving the restaurant. There was much speculation as to the nature of their meeting. _Heteronormative fools,_ Bellatrix considered uncharitably. Never mind that Narcissa was always quite subtle with her emotional displays. It was obvious to Bellatrix; and Narcissa was lucky Andromeda was working tonight as it would have been obvious to her as well. It was even obvious to some of the “stans” on Twitter. The restaurant was a very romantic environment. Some people even commented on how cute a couple they made. 

Bellatrix didn’t want to think about it. 

“And that bothered you because…?” The Black sisters were not uncommon in the news. They hadn’t had much anything new to say about Narcissa either—just the addition of another achievement, another successful organization helped or bill passed—since the last time they talked about her. There hadn’t been much of anything on the girl. Not yet. Even in this day and age, it took a bit longer than a few hours for them to reasonably obtain that information.

“Cissa said she reminded her of me.” The thought hadn’t left her.

“That worries you.” Dominique wasn’t wrong.

“Wouldn’t you?” Bellatrix returned. She and her friend were similar after all; they were both capable of greatness, for good or ill.

“She’s young,” Dominique said instead of answering.

“She’s stupid,” Bellatrix translated.

“Is she though?” Bellatrix paused. “We weren’t working at a nonprofit and driving carpools to compensate when we were that young.” 

Dominique had a point: they had sought to gain power, not to help others. Bellatrix hated that. “She has a fire,” she said instead.

“The girl?”

Who the fuck else. “Yes, the bloody girl.”

“You only met her for a few minutes.” It was a safe bet, and she wasn’t wrong.

“I know what I saw.” It was a grumpy protest.

“You pushed her, and she pushed back,” Dominique inferred.

Her silence spoke volumes.

“And you think Narcissa will burn?” Dominique’s voice was carefully devoid of judgement.

I’m scared she will, she doesn’t say. 

Dominique didn’t need her to. “Regardless of anything, she’ll have you and the rest of us.” It was the closest to comfort she could offer.

Bellatrix was done with this topic. “So we’re pushing up the timetable on the lightweight defense armor?” 

Dominique seeing her daughter in danger always did.

Too bad Bellatrix couldn’t design something to protect her sister.

The heart, in the metaphysical sense, was such a troublesome thing. And Narcissa was entrusting hers to a _girl._

Bellatrix didn’t tell Dominique what Cissa had asked of her the day before. _”Give her a chance,”_ Narcissa had said, blue eyes close to pleading. She would. Not just because her sister had asked; but should Hermione ever hurt her sister, Bellatrix would be the first to know. And if she could, she would stop her before it happened. 

It never occurred to Bellatrix that her own heart may have needed those defenses.

**Author's Note:**

> So [MagicNonCreator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicNonCreator) gave me a prompt months ago that was "The woo'ing of Hermione - Narcissa trying, Bellatrix succeeding" and I've taken many liberties with that prompt, but it fired up my muse and I'm grateful and hope you enjoy where my mind's taken it. Not really your typical fare, I think, but c'est la vie.
> 
> Thanks also to [Dreamkissed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed) and [CesarioWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CesarioWriter) for helping with some of this.
> 
> Also there's a character here from a different fandom; brownie points to whoever spots it.


End file.
